Devon's Story

My name is Devon. I am 34 years old and I work daily at continuing to conquer body dysmorphia & disordered eating.

I have a very vivid memory of playing in the schoolyard at age eight and hearing someone refer to me as ‘the skinny one’. For some reason that stuck in my little eight-year-old brain and it felt as if my worth and my size were inextricably tied together.

Growing up in the 90s and early 00s there was no body positivity movement, no ‘bodies should be celebrated in all shapes & sizes’ mentality - it was Britney & Christina, midriff-baring tops, low cut jeans and spaghetti strap tanks all the way. I was obsessive about my weight through my teen years, panicking one summer when I gained a few pounds due to some underlying health issues, and anytime anyone commented on my weight I was filled with deep shame or ugly pride. Sometimes both. A disordered mind is a dark mind. 

My obsession turned into a full-blown, textbook case of anorexia & body dysmorphia after a divorce in my early 20s. Turns out marrying your high school sweetheart, watching him suffer through a personality disorder and mental health issues you are too young to support him through, and the ensuing break up, make for the perfect combo to send a borderline anorexic reeling.

I had a few key friends who saw me through a very rough few years, and had kinder words to say than the typical ‘at least you two didn’t have kids!’ response. (In case you’re wondering: No one going through a divorce wants to hear that.) And though at the time I thought I was being sneaky and clever in hiding what I was going through, I now know they were completely aware of everything I was doing (or not doing), but loved me enough to recognize that I was very lost and legitimately sick. 
At my lowest point and lowest weight I had friends tell me they were ready to admit me into a hospital program if I didn’t get help and get myself better; though that didn’t sink in quickly as it should have (and I don’t know that I will ever truly understand how dire the situation was - such is the nature of the disease), thankfully I eventually heard them.

I don’t know that I was ever conscious of what I had to conquer to climb back up out of the darkness I had let myself crawl into, but I did recognize that I wanted more out of life. When food and calories and numbers consume your every thought, there isn’t a lot of energy left over for anything else. I wanted more from my life. I wanted more from myself.

It feels like I’ve gone through several lifetimes since then, and several different versions of my body have come and gone over the years. A 24-year-old body is inherently different from a 34-year-old one, and you know what? That’s okay. It’s actually kind of amazing. 
The older I get, the more I realize how many other things say so much more about who I am and who I want to be than any number on a scale ever could. Recovering helped me discover aspects of myself and strengths I possess that I never would have explored otherwise, and today I often find myself grateful to be in a position to be able to help friends on the other side of the table - going through their own relational struggles and health issues, and battling their own demons.
I still think often that the people I’ve met in the past few years never knew the ‘original’ (read: tiny) version of me - the body I thought I should have, and the one I nearly killed myself to get. And yet, those people, they’ve loved me anyway. It’s a lesson I have to remind myself of every day, and one that too many of us struggle to absorb.
It fills me with such happiness these days to see young women supporting and embracing each other - curves, rolls and all. I love that they are growing up in such a different time, with such different examples of beauty and value to follow, and I hope that trend continues to grow. 

I’m still learning how to honour my body. I’m still trying to embrace what I see when I look in the mirror. I’m still reminding myself on the regular, that the best version of myself is the one that is happy and healthy - in mind, soul and body.

Keep reminding yourself that time heals everything. Cause it really, truly does. Breakups are tough. Divorces are awful. Eating disorders are real, and mean, and so, so hard to combat. They’re also a lot of work, and somewhere deep down you know you could - and should - be getting more out of your life than the obsession is allowing you.

No matter how many pounds you’re carrying, know that you are loved, you are worthy, you are capable and stunning. No relationship is more important than the one you have with yourself, and it’s a much nicer existence when you enjoy your own company and your own body, than when you’re constantly at war with it.

There’s a rupi kaur piece I love that says “I am loving myself out of the dark”. No matter how dark it seems where you are, I promise the light is worth it. Love yourself enough to bask in it, in all your badass, beautiful, feminine glory.